


(branded)

by Augustus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-29
Updated: 2001-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slice of time: accusation and seduction</p>
            </blockquote>





	(branded)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Mild ones for "Goblet of Fire"  
> Credits: Thanks muchly to Charlie for the beta.

"You want to fuck me." Draco’s voice echoed confidently within the stone walls of the room. His eyes flickered gold in the candlelight, lips twisted into a characteristic smirk as he held Harry against the wall with a look rather than a physical touch.

Feeling naked in only his pyjamas, gaze darting longingly to the cloak of invisibility that lay puddled at Draco’s feet, Harry shivered under the intensity of the other boy’s gaze.

"What?" he asked dumbly, staring a little himself.

"You want to fuck me." Draco’s expression was as bluntly accusative as his words. "You want to strip me naked, render me defenceless and fuck me. You want to soak up my darkness, then claim me in an orgasmic rush of power. You want to feel me beneath you, whispering your name with a voice that shudders with enormity."

Harry’s eyes widened, his skin flushing. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Oh, but you _do_." Draco’s mouth stretched into an evil smile. "It’s in your eyes."

Harry looked away quickly, but Draco was not distracted.

"It’s always been there. Heavily coated in denial, of course, but there all the same."

He ran a hand lightly down Harry’s arm and Harry shuddered slightly before setting his jaw into an obstinate line. "You don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy."

"No?" Draco’s smile deepened. "Then why can’t you meet my eyes?"

Reluctantly, tentatively, Harry proved him wrong.

"I’m impressed!" Draco laughed. "Perhaps I have, indeed, been mistaken."

Harry looked almost comically relieved. "You have."

"Perhaps I have it the wrong way around," Draco quickly continued, ignoring him. "Of course I do. I’ve been swayed by my own preferences. You don’t want to fuck me." He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "You want _me_ to fuck _you_."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide.

Draco remained unmoved by the denial. "You want me inside you and above you," he stated calmly, the crude accusations falling from his tongue as though mere conversational pleasantries. "You want to writhe in my embrace, drown in the heat of my kisses. You want me to hold you and to fuck you, to fuck you and to love you."

Despite himself, Harry shuddered.

"Love’s a big ask, Potter." Draco’s eyes were challenging. "Are you sure I’m up to the task?" He lifted a hand to gently trace the line of Harry’s jaw with one fingertip, his thumb darting out to brush against the softness of his lips. "Are you sure that _you_ are?"

Harry’s mouth had fallen open, parted by the increased weight of his breath, but he closed it with some effort, shaping it into a fair imitation of disdain before ruining the effect through speech. "I’m sure I’m _not_ capable of loving _you_!"

"No? Your eyes say otherwise." Draco’s own eyes darkened. "It seems they have a mind of their own."

Gaining a little more composure, Harry smiled – although there was little warmth in the expression. "It seems that _you_ see what you _wish_ to see…"

Draco laughed. "You’re delusional."

"Yes?" Green eyes flashing in the golden light, Harry brushed away Draco’s hand, roughly grabbing the other boy’s shoulders and spinning and pushing him backwards until his own back, not Harry’s, was hard against the rough chill of the wall. Lifting a hand, he combed it roughly through the pale blonde of Draco’s hair, fingers tangling and clenching within the strands, claiming Draco’s gaze. "If I’m delusional, then you are surely in denial."

Draco smirked: maddeningly, enticingly. "Perhaps." His lashes lowered almost innocently. "After all, if that’s the case, I am unlikely to realise it."

Harry growled, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to swell from deep inside him, drawing a curious gaze from Draco. "Do they teach you to twist words in Slytherin?"

"We are taught many things." Draco smiled benignly.

"I’m sure," Harry glowered.

"Of course," Draco continued carefully, "I have learned much more from my father." His eyes narrowed, judging Harry’s reactions. "We are very alike, he and I." Harry remained silent, so he pushed the blade a little deeper. "We see the world in a similar fashion, strive towards similar goals…" His smile widened. "…forge similar alliances…"

The desired reaction materialised. Harry’s expression one of pure fury, the fingers in Draco’s hair yanked his head painfully backwards, while Harry’s other hand grabbed roughly for Draco’s wrist, eyes searching for the expected brand, wide and almost panicked in the sudden pallor of his face.

"There is no mark," he accused, his fingers still digging like claws into Draco’s arm.

"At least nothing physical," Draco smirked.

Harry stared at him for an eternity, his expression twisting and reshaping itself as various emotions flooded his thoughts, eyes fixed immovably on the upturned arrogance of Draco’s full lips. Finally, he dragged himself out of the near reverie, his own mouth twitching with loathing. "Bastard," he spat, before succumbing to the dark emotions writhing within him, dropping Draco’s wrist and instead sending his own clenched fist solidly into Draco’s jaw.

Instead of retaliating, as Harry had expected him to, Draco regarded him with something almost akin to respect, raising a hand to gingerly rub his injured face. "Not bad, Potter," he observed begrudgingly. "A little more practice and that temper of yours could prove quite useful." His smile was a little stiff, and a fraction one-sided. "Have you ever considered a career as a Death Eater…?"

Harry’s face became whiter still, and the hand in Draco’s hair clenched compulsively tighter. His self-control shattered, he swung at Draco once again, seeking to halt his words through whichever method proved necessary.

This time, however, Draco reached up and caught Harry’s fist before it connected, his cool fingers wrapping calmly around Harry’s own. They glared at each other for several long seconds, the eye contact unbreakable, before, at the exact same moment, each dragged the other in closer, so close that their lips couldn’t help but meet. 

Mouths pressed angrily together, the brush of lips against lips was somehow soft nonetheless, the heady intertwining of tongues almost tentative. Harry’s hand ceased to clench within Draco’s hair, instead stretching to cradle and almost caress the weight of his head, while Draco used his grip on Harry’s arm to wrap it around his own waist, before releasing it in the pursuit of Harry’s pyjama buttons.

When the kiss ended and they pulled apart, embarrassed and appalled, Harry’s pyjama top was half-opened and hanging loosely over one shoulder, while Draco’s hair was in such a state that he was barely recognisable.

Draco was the first to recover his breath enough to speak. "Delusional," he smirked.

"In denial," Harry countered.

They stared at each other for a moment, before diving in for another heated kiss, arms wrapping compulsively around each other, as though each was clutching at something unrecognised, unspeakable. 

This time, however, it was solely Harry who pulled away, shoving Draco hard into the wall behind him, and backing quickly away, eyes unreadable. "I can't do this," he muttered, shaking his head as though unable even to handle the mere thought of it. "Not with you, not like this."

"What’s wrong?" Draco’s dazed stare hardened into a scowl. "Getting all petulant because I’ve not yet declared my undying love?"

Frowning and shaking his head slightly, Harry looked as though he wanted to back away further still. "How can you talk of love?" he whispered. "You speak of evil as though it’s no more than a game, and then with those very same lips you tease me about love."

"You didn’t mind my lips a moment ago," Draco pointed out.

Harry looked ill, as though sickened by some tug of contradictory emotions inside him. "I don’t understand you," he said shakily.

"No?" Draco took a step forward, closing the gap a little, his eyes daring Harry to attempt escape. "Are you so sure?"

Although his eyes were wary, Harry didn’t move. "What do you mean?"

" _You_ speak as though you know nothing of evil, nothing of darkness. And yet your own love is inextricably intertwined with hatred."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Harry replied coolly.

"Yes you do." Draco raised an eyebrow confidently. "You love me and you hate me. One part of you shies from my connections, my ambitions, while at the same moment the rest of you yearns to taste darkness. It must be quite a battle that goes on inside your head…"

"You claim to know a lot about me, Malfoy."

"We have a lot in common." He took another step. "As much as you may try to deny it."

" _I_ am not in league with the… _thing_ … that killed my parents," Harry spat.

"Neither am I, really," Draco shrugged. "I have little interest in his desire for cowed subordination, and certainly no intention to be _any_ man’s slave. But I am loyal to my father and my own safety, although I am no Death Eater."

"Yet," Harry added cynically.

Draco stretched his arms angrily out towards Harry, wrists facing upward. "Do you see his mark?" he snarled. Shaking his head, he restated, "I am no man’s servant."

"What then?" Harry moved forward slightly, as though strengthened by the vehemence of Draco’s voice. "A life of anonymity?"

"I don’t intend that any more than you do." Draco smirked as Harry blinked heavily, his words obviously ringing true. "My place is in the so-called darkness – but _not_ in Voldemort’s shadow."

Harry laughed bitterly. "You say that as though I should applaud you for it."

"Well, if you really feel the urge…"

Harry glared impotently, his resolve weakening as Draco closed the remainder of the gap between them, his hand sliding through the open neckline of Harry’s pyjama top and resting lightly on the heated skin above his rapidly beating heart. There was something oddly comforting in his touch, something mesmerising.

"If I were truly in league with Voldemort, I would dispose of you right now," Draco said quietly, his eyes meeting and holding Harry’s for a second, before he leant to replace the hand with his lips, kissing Harry’s chest briefly before gently nipping at the skin, not causing pain so much as pleasure. He covered the pink echo of the contact with another kiss, before raising his head to reclaim Harry’s gaze. "Just as if _you_ truly believed I was, _you_ would dispose of _me_."

"It’s all too complicated," Harry moaned.

"Really?" Draco kissed him, lips brushing briefly over the frown of Harry’s mouth. "Once you learn to live with contradiction, it can actually become quite enjoyable."

"What does?" Harry asked, a smile drifting into his eyes. "The contradiction, or the fucking?"

Draco laughed. "Both, I expect."

Harry sighed deeply, the smile fading. "This isn’t going to go away, is it?" he said quietly, his tone resigned.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want it to?"

Harry met his gaze, eyes locked deeply within the grey-blue of his enemy’s as he grinned. "Perhaps not."

Draco returned the smile, albeit in a rather more triumphant fashion. "I didn’t think so. After all, I could see it in your eyes. They bear my mark."

Their lips met again: softly, enticingly, conclusively.

Finally Harry broke away, his gaze knowing, if a little dazed. "And yours bear mine."

There was no denial. Only the beginning of a kiss that seemed never to end.

**29-12-2001**


End file.
